


Incentive

by scorchedtrees



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2628395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorchedtrees/pseuds/scorchedtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Nico tried to sneak out of the infirmary and one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first three parts last month and just finished it today; let me know if you spot any errors (canonical or grammatical or otherwise).

_one._

_You owe me at least three days of rest in the infirmary,_ Will had said; _I suppose that would be okay_ had been Nico's hopefully-offhand response. And he'd meant it—somehow three days cooped up in a hospital bed surrounded by wounded people didn't sound nearly half so bad when he considered the fact that Will Solace would be around.

Nico was not one to go back on his word, but by the end of the second day he was thinking he'd been wrong; absolutely nothing was worth this torture.

"You said three days, di Angelo," Will said when he caught the son of Hades trying to sneak out of the room on the early morning of the third day. The sun was barely over the horizon, pale shafts of light starting to slant through the windows, and the infirmary was quiet and still, but Nico had barely put one toe on the ground before Will descended upon him, appearing out of seemingly nowhere.

"I'm good now," Nico said quickly. "I haven't even _thought_ about shadow-traveling in two days and if I have any more ambrosia I'm going to burst into flames."

Without missing a beat, Will reached over and pressed a hand to Nico's forehead, hard enough that the younger boy yelped and stumbled backwards. He was torn between jerking away from the sudden contact and trying not to flush at the warmth of Will's palm against his skin. He settled for scowling instead.

"Nope," Will said. "You said three days and you need three days. Get back in bed."

"I told you, I'm _fine._ " Nico tried to summon up his angry glare that sent most people running for the hills, but 1. it didn't seem to be working properly right now and 2. he recalled it didn't have much effect on Will anyway.

Will sighed and, with an air of resignation, walked over and _shoved_ Nico back under the covers. He was definitely stronger than he looked; Nico tried to push him away and only got a faceful of the bedsheets for his efforts. He had to admit he wasn't trying as hard as he could to get away, but still—Will was forceful. He wondered again why he'd ever thought the son of Apollo was an easygoing guy. When it came to his patients, Will was more obstinate than anyone Nico had ever met.

 _It's just one more day,_ he tried to reassure himself, and he did like Will's company, but he'd really rather not be confined to a hospital bed for it.

Will stood back and crossed his arms, a smirk curving the corners of his lips as he surveyed the beaten son of Hades, now tucked properly back into bed. "Are you going to be a good patient now, di Angelo?" he asked. "Or am I going to have to do everything for you? Do you need to be spoon-fed too?"

Nico decided not to blurt out his first thought, which he found embarrassing and far more geared towards the affirmative than he was comfortable admitting even to himself.

\--

_two._

Out of all the things that he thought could have put him in the infirmary, a broken arm was not one of them.

Cuts and scrapes from training? Sure. Bruises and concussions from a few games of Capture the Flag that the Ares cabin took too seriously? Definitely. Deep wounds and poisoned gashes from fighting all sorts of monsters from the depths of Hades? Just another day in the life of your typical demigod.

But a broken arm from falling out of a tree? That was just laughable.

"And this is why you should avoid shadow-travel as much as possible," Will said as he finished wrapping plaster around Nico's arm. It was only a light cast; ambrosia should heal the bone much more quickly, but Nico was wary of eating more at the moment considering how much he'd consumed over the course of his quest. "If you can't even control where you end up—"

"I was in a rush, Solace," Nico grumbled. "I didn't have time to calculate exactly—"

"But dangling from one of the thinnest, top branches of a tree? That's ridiculous, even for you."

What happened in Albania suddenly flashed through Nico's mind, but he clamped down on the thought. There was no way he was going to mention _that_ , especially not to Will Solace.

"Anyway, you should be good after a couple of days," Will said. He pinned Nico with a stern look. "Just stay put and let it heal."

"Of course," Nico said, trying to mimic the innocent tones he often heard used in the Underworld by souls hoping to get into Elysium.

Will shot him a skeptical look, clearly not believing him—and sure enough, only three hours later, when Nico figured his arm would be just fine in a cast whether he was in bed in the infirmary or in bed in the Hades cabin, Will was there to dissuade him of the notion before he could even get past the first door.

"It's midnight," Nico said. "Why are you still here?"

"I know you." Will's hair was rumpled and his T-shirt was on backwards; he'd clearly just rolled out of bed. "I knew you'd try to leave."

"It's my arm, not my leg. I can function just fine—"

"If I let you out now you're going to do something stupid to land yourself in here all over again. Just rest a few days, have a bit of ambrosia, and your arm will be healed without your disrupting the process."

The older boy was right, Nico knew, and he didn't really want to argue—not when Will looked so exhausted. There were circles under his eyes and his gaze was unfocused, heavy with sleep.

"… Fine," Nico said, relenting. "But do you know how _boring_ it is to sit around in bed all day?"

Will blinked a few times, considering. "When I'm not busy, I'll keep you company. How's that?"

"… Whatever," Nico said, but he saw a lazy smile stretch across Will's face and he had a feeling the other boy was not fooled by his indifferent tone.

\--

_three._

He supposed he only had himself to blame for his condition.

The weather was getting colder, the heat of summer giving way to the crisp chill of fall. The nymphs and dryads were spotted less frequently as they retreated into the depths of the river and the woods, preparing for the oncoming winter. Many demigods had packed and left for home and new school years, and the camp was a lot emptier than it had been all summer.

Nico liked the solitude, though he had to admit he'd gotten used to the constant presence of others. People didn't seem as wary of him as they'd been after the Titan War, and he didn't know if it was because he'd helped the camp out twice now or if it was due to his new friends—whatever the reason, he found people a lot more receptive to his company than they'd been last year. He didn't really mind those who weren't, though Jason and Will seemed to take personal offense whenever someone said something derogatory about Nico.

He felt more at peace in Camp Half-Blood than he had since the time he'd been just another unclaimed demigod (or so he'd thought), playing with Mythomagic figurines and waiting for his older sister to come back from her quest, and when he took walks by himself through the training grounds or the fields bordering the camp, there was no lingering bitterness in his privacy.

Which was probably why he went on more solitary walks when he was bored—and why he ended up catching the flu because he'd failed to dress in accordance with the dropping temperatures.

"It'll be gone in a few days," Nico tried to protest as Will shoved a tray of chicken noodle soup onto his lap. "I don't need to stay in here." He cleared his throat and wiped his nose as surreptitiously as possible, hoping he didn't sound too stuffy; it wouldn't do anything to help his point.

"A couple of Hermes kids caught the flu last week," Will said. He scooped a spoonful of soup from the bowl and shoved it into Nico's mouth, then kept talking as Nico was forced to choke back his words and swallow. "It's in the air and if you don't stay here I know you're just going to make it worse."

Will was one of the few campers who'd chosen to stay during the year; Nico hadn't bothered asking why. He certainly wasn't going to complain about the son of Apollo's presence, though he thought Will might tell him his reasons for the decision sometime later.

The soup was hot and settled comfortably in Nico's stomach, and when he opened his mouth to gripe anyway, he broke into a coughing fit. Will crossed his arms, a mixture of exasperation and amusement on his face, and declared, "No question about it. You're staying here. Doctor's orders."

Nico did follow those orders for four days, but in the early afternoon of the fifth day, he was unable to sit still any longer. There was only so much one could do when confined to bed, and though the camp was pretty empty, two Hecate kids had managed to mess up a spell earlier that day; Will's attention was required elsewhere.

He decided he was feeling a lot better; his throat was still a bit scratchy, his nose still a bit runny, but his temperature had gone down. He pushed the covers away and stood, reaching for his jacket that was slung over the chair next to the bed. He pulled it on and slipped his feet into his shoes, and was about to duck away when—

"Going somewhere?"

Will stood behind him, a roll of bandages in one hand and a can of Coke in the other. Nico tried not to look guilty.

"Uh... nowhere in particular?"

Will blew out a breath. "Always so eager to leave. That sick of my presence?"

The words were spoken lightly, jokingly, but Nico thought he could detect something else in them—he'd been lonely enough times himself that he was sensitive to such things. It wasn't hurt, exactly, but it was enough for him to think of the last few days he'd spent in Will's company and blurt without thinking, "Without your presence, I would've left a lot sooner."

Only after he spoke did he realize how the words sounded. He looked away, fighting back a blush, but he could feel it spreading across his cheeks.

"Hey," Will said. Nico darted a quick look at him; the other boy was grinning now. "I think you'll be cleared after one more day. Hang on; I'll be right over."

Nico watched Will walk off and blew out a breath of his own. _I'll be right over_ —well, he supposed he couldn't very well leave now.

\--

_and one._

Nico couldn't stop snickering.

Will glared, though the attempt was halfhearted—an actual glare would have required more effort. He rubbed his swollen eyes and scowled and then sneezed and reached for a tissue.

"This is your fault, you know," he said, his voice hoarse. He made a face that could have been construed as a pout and then sneezed again. He looked so pathetic, Nico couldn't help snickering some more.

"I'm sorry," he said. He did feel a bit bad, but it wasn't like he'd actively tried to pass the flu to Will. And it was kind of amusing to see the son of Apollo in this situation—usually Will was the one hovering over patients, checking on wounds and rewrapping bandages and shoving medicine down throats.

Now he was in bed, pillows propped behind his back, blankets piled on his legs. His hair, usually so smooth and shiny (not that Nico noticed or anything), was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His blue eyes were slightly glazed, his skin pale under his tan, and for the first time since they'd met, he looked more like death than Nico did.

"I feel like crap." Will heaved a dramatic sigh. "I don't get why you'd want to leave the infirmary like this."

Perched on the edge of Will's bed, Nico glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall. "You've been here for about ten minutes," he pointed out. "Try saying that three days later."

Will grunted. He blew his nose and stared mournfully across the infirmary; most of the beds were empty. One of his siblings was searching through a cabinet for gauze and looked up and waved when she saw him. The wave she received in return was more like a a flop of the hand.

"It's almost lunchtime," Nico said. "Want me to bring you anything or do you just want some soup?"

"Soup sounds good," Will admitted.

He coughed into his fist and then fell silent. Nico contemplated the older boy for a few seconds, remembering all the times Will had helped him when he'd been injured or unwell—not just by putting antiseptic on his cuts or feeding him ambrosia or anything, but also by keeping him company. Nico was no healer, but getting him soup was the least he could do.

"I'll be right back," he said, sliding off the bed and making his way towards the door. He'd taken about three steps when Will spoke again.

"Are you going to the training grounds this afternoon?"

His voice was congested but he was clearly aiming for an offhand tone. Nico suppressed a smile as he turned back to answer.

"No, I'll be here," he said.

Will blinked a few times. "Here?"

"Yeah." Nico shrugged. "I'll stay with you."

"You'll stay," Will repeated, like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. His eyes were oddly bright though; it must have been the fever.

"Yup."

"You'll stay here. In the infirmary. Which you hate."

"I don't hate it," Nico said. "You'll be here."

"So you'll stay."

"With you."


End file.
